


Always Come When You Call

by the_diggler



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Bottom Castiel, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, Immortal Dean, M/M, Mark of Cain, Post-Episode: s10e22 The Prisoner, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 17:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4445273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_diggler/pseuds/the_diggler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Maybe you could fight the mark for years, maybe centuries like Cain did. But you cannot fight it forever. And when you finally turn – and you <em>will</em> turn – Sam, and everyone you know, everyone you love, they could be long dead. Everyone except me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Come When You Call

**Author's Note:**

> Where 10x22 could've gone.

 

It’s dark when Dean near collapses through the door of his motel room, staggering towards the bathroom and leaving a trail that tells of death and destruction in his wake – a bag of weapons, soiled jackets, crusted thigh-holster, grimy knife, a ripped shirt, bloody bootprints – shedding the last pieces of himself on the ratty carpet floor as he forces his feet to carry him to the only source of light, slivering through the open crack of the bathroom door. He’s naked by the time he reaches the mirror over the sink, but he doesn’t recognize himself, can’t see past all the _red_ in its reflection. But Cain’s Mark throbs angry and dark against his arm as he reaches out to turn the shower on.  
  
He stands under the spray – always too cold – head bent as the water sluices through his hair, plastering the long strands all the way down his face to the tips of his shoulders, tangling through the length of his beard. The water runs dark down the drain, first a muddy brown, then red, then pink. But when it finally runs clear Dean still doesn’t move, save for the trembling in his arms where he’s holding himself up against the shower wall. He still can’t tell the difference between the sound of the shower running and the rushing pulse of blood in his ears. It’s still too loud. Too _loud_.  
  
“Cas,” Dean grits out, choking through the taste of entrails in his throat. “I need you.”  
  
And in the next shaky breath, Cas is standing in front of him in the shower, gently pushing his hair out of his face and whispering, “I’m here.”  
  
Dean lunges for him, grabbing him in his arms and crushing their faces together, gasping into Castiel’s mouth like it’s his only source of air. He’s gripping Cas too tightly to walk or move, so Castiel’s grace brings them to Dean’s bedside, and gravity does the rest of the work, toppling them to the sheets with Castiel naked beneath him. Dean pushes into him, rough and urgent, and Castiel has prepared for that too, already loose and wet – ready to give Dean whatever he needs. _Anything_ he needs. _Everything_.  
  
“I’m here, Dean. _Shhh_. Come back to me,” Cas hushes him, over and over as Dean ruts into him, mindless and without any finesse, his humanity a fraying thread that threatens to snap with every savage thrust. But the soft murmur of Castiel’s voice weaves around that thread like a lifeline, refusing to let go, and Dean clings to it, letting it anchor him as his body burns through his bloodlust.  
  
Dean thought he was stronger. At first. So he’d tried it on his own. For years. Too many. But every time he came to the edge of losing himself, letting the Mark consume him entirely, Cas was always there to pull him back.  
  
The first few times, Dean had nearly killed him. Beat him hard and bloody. Cas had learned his lesson though, and left his angel blade behind, denying Dean any means to finish him off. But that also denied Dean the means to sate his rage. So he could only continue, brutal and relentless, until Cas was a broken and bloody pulp on the ground, simply nothing left to beat on anymore.  
  
And yet, Cas always came back. Unfailingly. Over and over again. Until finally, one time, in the midst of his madness, Dean had kissed him.  
  
He’d grabbed Castiel, ready to deliver another bone-crushing blow, and he’d kissed him.  
  
If it could be called a kiss, the way Dean had mashed their mouths together, bruising and biting flesh that was already split-open and bloodied.  
  
Dean wasn’t kind, that first time. He’s never kind, the first time. It’s always vicious, and violent. He’s always too close to being pulled under, drowning in blood and grief and _rage_. And it always takes far too much to break free from the clawing grasp of the Mark.  
  
But Cas knows what to do. He’s learned how to make it easier for both of them. Though it’s still not entirely painless.  
  
“Come back to me,” Castiel still murmurs, gently cradling Dean’s face even as Dean comes with the force of a freight-train, snarling with every snap of his hips, deep inside Castiel’s body.  
  
It takes a few more times before Dean comes back to himself again. Sometimes it takes less. Sometimes a lot more. Sometimes days. But Castiel stays with him, holding him, letting him take what he needs, waiting until Dean is ready to talk.  
  
“It was a whole friggin’ town of monsters. A whole _town_ ,” Dean murmurs against Castiel’s hair.  
  
Castiel says nothing, curling more tightly around Dean’s side. Protectively.  
  
Dean sighs. “I’m not giving up hunting. It’s who I am.”  
  
Castiel remains silent for another long moment, weighing the words. “I’ll always watch over you,” he finally replies.  
  
“I know,” Dean whispers. And there’s a lot of things that means – Thank you, I love you, I’m glad you’re here… Cain had it right the first time. Having someone know _who_ and _what_ you are, and still love you unconditionally… that’s the only thing worth being beholden to. The most powerful thing. And knowing Cas is always out there, watching him, it’s the only thing that keeps him together anymore. He’s not going to let Cas down.  
  
Dean strokes his fingers through Castiel’s hair, finding comfort in the simple touch, the warm weight of Castiel’s body against his own, the closeness of it. “How’s Heaven?” he murmurs idly, tracing his fingers down Castiel’s spine.  
  
“Complicated. As usual,” Castiel sighs. “It helps to keep things in perspective. To have something to keep me… grounded.”  
  
Dean nods silently, understanding. If it wasn’t for him, he wonders how long it would take for Cas to become entirely brainwashed by that place again, how long before Cas became a mindless hammer once more. Dean huffs at the irony of that – a patchwork angel and an almost demon keeping each other human, clinging to each other to balance the other out, and meeting somewhere in the middle. Another reason to never give in. If not for his own sake, but for Cas.  
  
The next time, Dean takes things slow, and with purpose. Gentle, the way Cas deserves. He pulls the thin bedsheet over their heads, and it glows with the light from the bedside table Castiel had turned on the first time they fell to the sheets, creating a space where all they can see is each other – all they _need_ is each other. And Castiel holds his face in his hands, whispering, “That’s it. So good for me. _Dean_.”  
  
Sometimes he wonders what his soul looks like now. If his true face is tainted, twisted like a demon’s. But the way Cas looks at him, like he’s seeing something beautiful, like Dean is precious… that’s all that matters. There, in the glow, under the sheets – shutting out the dirty motel room, shutting out the _world_ – all that matters is the two of them, moving together, _coming_ together, Cas murmuring, “There you are. _There you are_.”  
  
~  
  
The sun is just breaking over the horizon when Dean revs up the Impala again. He waits for the hover modifications to come online, then flies out of the motel’s hoverport, heading for the next town.  
  
  
_~ fin_

  



End file.
